A/N: I'm seriously blown away by your responses. Thank you for your support! I really do enjoy writing it. I will try to work on this story as much as I can before I leave for Ireland in a couple of weeks. I will try to update as much as possible once I'm there. (Maybe I can meet my personal Irish Saints over there? tee hee) Thanks to Veritas rose, Aramoorn, dragonzfire 718, Sith Happens, BelhavenOnTap, kitkatbaby611, alandava, Skylinebabe and Jade Opal for reviewing last chapter. Isn't Conn just too cute with his rope? haha And Aramoorn, "Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer" was exactly what I was going for and actually inspired the story! LOL! Enjoy, everyone! xx IFHD

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Chapter 7: Blow Me Away

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"Blow Me Away"

By: Breaking Benjamin

They fall in line

One at a time

Ready to play

(I can't see them anyway)

No time to lose

We've got to move

Steady your hand

(I am losing sight again)

Fire your guns

It's time to run

Blow me away

(I will stay, in the mess I made)

After the fall

We'll shake it off

Show me the way

Only the strongest will survive

Lead me to heaven, when we die

I am the shadow on the wall

I'll be the one to save us all

There's nothing left

So save your breath

Lying in wait

(Caught inside this tidal wave)

Your cover's blown

Nowhere to go

Holding your fate

(Loaded I will walk alone)

Wanted it back

(Don't fight me now)

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Through the three days that slowly passed, Murphy couldn't get Lita out of his mind. Even whilst doing the most mundane things, his thoughts would often drift to her memory, finding that he would wonder about her whereabouts and current state of mind. However, he was more interested in her well-being than anything else, and what surprised him was that he had no qualms about it. If she had been the cold-hearted killer that she had portrayed herself to be, he reasoned, why didn't she kill him and his family when she had the chance? Why couldn't she go through with slitting his throat or asphyxiating him whilst he slept? No, she wasn't a born and bred killer; and every breath that he took was a testament to that.

The quiet tapping of the side window of the car shook him out of his silent reverie. Inclining his head from the steering wheel, he caught a glimpse of Connor's spiked hair peeking in between two, very large paper bags that he held tightly to his chest. Peeping his head in between his massive purchases, the blonde MacManus raised his eyebrows as he impatiently nodded his head to the lock of the door.

"Murph, I think yer brother wants ye ta open tha door."

Rolling his eyes as his impatient brother began to mumble in irritation in rapid Italian, Murphy finally complied with Connor's request and pressed the unlock button upon the side panel. Hopping inside whilst whistling a merry Irish tune, Connor cheerfully passed the bags over to his father at the backseat. "There," he brushed his hands off in satisfaction, "That's all o' it."

Knitting his brows, Murphy snatched the receipt from the top of one of the large bags and quickly scanned its print. Narrowing his eyes, he snapped in sheer incredulity, "Con, ye dick, ye fuckin' spent 200 dollars on fuckin' rope?!"

"'Twas on sale." Connor gave him a nonchalant shrug as he made a move to light a new cigarette. He widely beamed, baring his pearly whites. "Couldn't pass up tha opportunity."

Evidently irritated by Connor's choice of purchase as well, the senior MacManus reached out and over the headrest, giving his son a harsh slap on the back of the head. Ignoring Connor's whines and complaints, the older MacManus grumbled, "We asked ye ta feckin' buy groceries! Does rope look like somethin' ye can boil or fry an' eat wid a side o' potatoes?"

Murphy snorted as he flicked the keys and started the engine. "Don't cha worry, Da, I'm sure we can lasso our dinner wid all o' this rope. If we're lucky, we can catch some deer or e'en a wild boar in this part o' the city!"

With a mumbled curse, Connor lunged for his brother's collar and began to push and struggle with him. Shouting at the top of his lungs, Murphy replied in kind by pushing at his brother's face, elbow repeatedly hitting the horn on the steering wheel during his efforts to retaliate. Meanwhile, amidst the commotion and rocking of the car, Da MacManus merely rolled his eyes in a dismissive manner, gaze drifting towards the adjacent road. Expertly blocking out his sons' exhibitions of immaturity, his eyes curiously scanned his nearby surroundings. After a few moments, his keen vision instantly spotted a familiar face. Clearing his throat exaggeratedly, he piped up in a calm tone, "If ye two dick'eads stopped yer fightin' fer a fuckin' second an' look ta yer right across tha street, I think ye'll recognize someone."

Suddenly sitting stalk still, both Murphy's and Connor's eyes shot up and towards the nearby sidewalk, scanning its surrounding area for someone that they would apparently recognize. Loosening his grip on his brother's shirt, Murphy finally recognized Lita through his squinted eyes. Suppressing his automatic elation at her sight, he merely straightened his spine and continued to observe her. Clad in an all-black business suit, she lithely stepped out of a black Mercedes, curiously eyeing the skyrise beside her. She had tied her hair back in a long ponytail and shielded her eyes with plain, black sunglasses. If it hadn't been for the curve of her hips and the fullness of her lips, he mused, Murphy himself wouldn't even have recognized her. With all of his curiosity piqued by her unexpected presence, he pushed Connor back upon his seat in order to attain a clearer vision of what was transpiring before them.

Not long after Lita exited the car, three other men followed suit. To Murphy's amusement, they all seemed to share the same fashion sense, for they were all clad in matching black suits. As one tall, muscular man shared a few, quiet words with Lita, all of the men, too, stared at the building that they had parked in front of.

"I don't recognize anyone," declared Connor after a few more seconds passed, scratching his head in wonder. "All I see is a good-lookin' broad across the street, but other than that…" he trailed off as an expression of realization finally appeared on his face. "Wait a minute. No fuckin' way! Is that Lita?"

"Aye." Da gave them a conceding nod, leaning forward. With a stone expression, he explained, "The man she's speaking with right now is her brother, Luis."

Three pairs of eyes then studied the man who was named Luis. Standing a few inches taller than Lita, the Oriental man was quite tall and broad-shouldered. With short, spiked black hair, his features were harsh, having a pointed nose, hollowed cheek-bones and a clearly defined jaw line. His dark brown eyes showed no signs of mirth, although a hint of softness appeared within them when he spoke with his sister. Taking in his subtle mannerisms, the Saints could not believe that this was the current leader of the Boston Triads – the man who had most likely sent Lita to assassinate them – for he seemed quite harmless. Though, from personal experience, they knew that even the most innocent-looking of people can be the most deadly.

Lita was a prime example.

"She cleans up pretty well, though." Connor lightly mused, taking in Lita's sight from top to bottom. He then let out a bitter scoff as he shook his head, "I'd probably even date 'er if she hadn't done all o' tha try-ta-kill-us thing."

Murphy felt his defenses rise. Squinting his eyes in slight annoyance, Murphy peevishly pushed at the side of his twin's head. "Oi, would ye shut tha fuck up? Pay attention!"

Just as Murphy hissed this, all three men entered the building, leaving Lita outside. Tiredly leaning upon the car door, she crossed her arms and blankly gazed at the sidewalk around her, waiting for the men to return. Reaching for something in her blazer pocket, she began to read what seemed to be a letter of some sort, eyes trailing over the words that she found there.

Murphy didn't even think about what he subsequently did. Much to the shouts and protests of his brother and father, he swiftly exited the car, unable to fight the urge to just talk with Lita any longer. It had been a few days too long, and he hated being kept in the dark about her well-being. Making sure that the coast was clear to his left and right, he placed his hands in his pea coat pockets and began to discreetly jog towards her form.

Just as he reached the middle of the street, however, the three Triad men exited the building in a straight line. Murphy instantly froze. Fuckin' shit! Now, all of their eyes were upon his stilled form, including Lita's; he knew from their expressions that he was in their clear view and that they had immediately recognized him. Before he could decide upon what course of action to follow, Murphy saw that Luis had reached for his pistol inside his blazer pocket. In a reflex action, the Saint ducked and retreated, hand thrusting in his pocket for his own silencer.

A firefight then ensued in the busy streets of South Boston. As a fusillade of bullets pierced the chill air around them, panic quickly erupted, with shouts and cries of various civilians contributing to the thundering noise of discharged bullets. In the midst of the smoke and miniature explosions around him, Murphy wildly ducked underneath a stalled car, feeling the bullets piercing through the pavement and metal around him. Gritting his teeth and inclining his head, he caught a glimpse of his father and brother stealthily exiting their vehicle, firearms violently discharging in both of their hands.

When Murphy made a move to reload, he felt a hand pulling him down even further upon the gritty pavement. Frantically looking up in distress, he instantly recognized Lita, her sunglasses perched atop her disheveled hair. Eyeing him longingly even amidst the deafening sounds surrounding them, she then pulled out a white piece of paper from her suit pocket and firmly pressed it upon his chest. Then, delicately placing her hand upon the side of his face and momentarily pressing her lips upon his, she whispered, "I'm sorry" before disappearing from his sight. Murphy had no time to question her as another bombardment of bullets punctured the car in front of him, sending shattered glass and pieces of metal showering upon him. Furrowing his brows in confusion, he then stuffed the piece of paper in his inner pocket before crawling to his father's and brother's sides. Seeing that they, too, utilized vehicles as their shields, he pressed his back against the door of a crimson car, shouting, "Ye two alright?"

"Aye!" Connor curtly shouted. Hesitating to continue the firefight, he cried, "We can't keep doin' this shite! There are too many civilians around!"

"I don't think the Triads give a flyin' fuck!" Da muttered through gritted teeth, lighting a cigarette with one hand ad he continued to expertly shoot with the other. "Oi, Murph, this'll teach ye ta think wid yer 'ead an' not wid yer wee…"

Murphy was quick to interrupt his father's statement with, "Just don't fuckin' shoot 'er!" Grunting at the thumping pain in his ears, he held his gun firmly upon his chest and waited for another opportunity to shoot. Using the windows of the stores in front of him, he was quick to pinpoint where the shooters hid.

Before he could make a move, however, he suddenly felt a shove from his father. "Try ta get inta tha car without gettin' shot! We gotta stop riskin' the lives o' all o' these people!"

With a conceding nod, Murphy slightly stood and reached out for the door handle of his bullet-punctured car. Though, just as he surfaced, his gaze met Lita's once more for a split second.

His eyes widened in complete shock as he clearly saw the barrel of her gun pointed directly at him.

She seemed to mouth something at him, but Murphy found that she was too far for him to be able to decipher what it was. His moment's hesitation was enough. Before he could jump inside the car for safety, Lita rapidly pulled the trigger and ensued to duck for cover. As the bullet clipped Murphy's shoulder, his arm automatically jerked back, sending his gun tumbling to the ground and skidding upon the sidewalk for a few meters. Crying out in pain, he held onto the bleeding wound as he clumsily stumbled into the vehicle. He looked up just in time to see that Lita, her brother, and their two accomplices had piled into their own bullet-punctured vehicle, bent on escape. As the gunshots faded and finally ceased, all that could be heard was the sound of screeching tires as the Triad vehicle haphazardly careened into the distance.

"Murph!" Connor cried in distress as he frantically hopped into the car beside him. "Murph, are ye alright?"

"It's fuckin' nothin'." Murphy hissed, though clenched his jaw in pain. "Let's just get the fuck outta 'ere!"

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A/N: First Murphy gets abused, then he gets shot. Let's see if I continue to make this Saint's life hell. tee hee! xx IFHD